Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Friday afternoon, Nora found herself in the Sugar Mill General Store, flipping through a catalog as she looked for selections for her party decor. Shipping could be slow this time of year, so she wanted to make certain she gave plenty of time for everything to arrive. Aiden was on the other side of the store as she shopped, picking out some materials for a new construction job.

“These ribbons will be perfect,” Nora mused, pointing to a photo as Leon peered at it. “And this—we definitely need lots of candles. A few old-fashioned lanterns for the big window—four of these, I think.” She heard the excitement rising in her voice as she ran down the list, the vision coming together in her mind. She knew it would be perfect, once it was all arranged the way she had in mind.

“All right. I’ll mark those down.” Leon ran a hand over his white beard, noting the items Nora wanted to order, and beginning to ring them up. “Anything else?”

“I think for now— oh !” She froze, her finger that had been running down the page landing on a picture she hadn’t noticed before.

The moment she saw it, she knew she’d found what she’d been looking for—the perfect focal point for the living room. Exactly what she needed to tie it all together, and set off the room year-round—not to mention the decor that she’d picked out for the Christmas party specifically.

It was a large chandelier—vintage-looking with the perfect amount of old art deco charm, crystals dangling from each row, the arrangement reminding her of the tassels on a flapper’s dress. Lit up and glowing, she could just picture the way it would reflect the flames in the fireplace, casting a soft glow over the room—it would be exactly what she needed.

“Aiden!” She called out, and her husband headed over to where she was standing. “Look! It’s perfect.”

“The chandelier?” He sounded a bit unsure, and she bit her lip.

“Yes! We need a touch of elegance in the living room. Something to set off that old-fashioned, Victorian structure it has. It’s exactly what it needs—and exactly what the Christmas party decor needs too! It will be perfect year-round, but especially for this.”

“Hmm.” Aiden glanced at it again. “It’s a little fancy,” he said, looking at his wife. “But I trust your taste,” he added. “I know you’ve been wanting that little bit of sophistication in the house—and everything you decorate always comes out looking perfect, even if I can’t see it at first. But I’m the builder, and you’re the decorator.” He grinned. “I’ll leave all that to you.”

The chime over the door rang, just as Leon’s wife Bethany walked in. She was covered in pet hair—collateral damage from running Pets First , the dog groomer’s next door. She had a perfectly manicured Yorkie in her arms, and she walked up to the counter, smiling at Nora. “What’s got you so excited?” she asked curiously, and Nora pointed to the chandelier.

“I think this will look amazing in the living room, in our new house. I wanted something special for the Christmas party—and it will be perfect just in general, I think.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Bethany nodded, her approval whole-hearted. “Just what that place needs, I think. It’ll light up the whole room, really make it look elegant.”

“That’s what I thought!” Nora glanced anxiously at Leon. “Can you get it here in time?”

“I think so.” Leon made a note, writing down the item number. “I’ll get in touch with the distributor. We’ll have to figure out some things for shipping, I think, but I’ll let you know just as soon as I get it handled.”

Nora beamed, excitement suffusing her as she took one more look at the photo of the chandelier. “Please do,” she said, hardly able to contain her eagerness. “The party just won’t be the same without it, if we don’t have it up in time.”

Leon chuckled. “Don’t worry, little lady,” he said, ringing up the rest of her and Aiden’s purchases. “I’ll do my absolute best.”

Rhett knocked on Jay’s bedroom door, pushing it open to check on his son. He saw immediately that, instead of sitting at his small desk working on his homework, Jay was sitting in the middle of the bed sifting through a small pile of rocks and bone.

“What’s this?” Rhett shut the door, and Jay looked up quickly.

“My artifacts.” He nudged a finger through them, and Rhett knew they must be what Jay had dug up in Caroline’s backyard—the ‘fossils’ that Jay had been told were buried there. It looked like some pieces of old amber and bird bones, but Jay was clearly enamored with them.

“As neat as those are,” he said slowly, “you need to do your spelling homework, bud.”

Jay made a face, looking up at his father. “I don’t want to,” he mumbled. “It’s too hard.”

Rhett knew he should press the matter. But he ran a hand through his hair, letting it go despite that. He did that too often, he knew that too. Just as he knew he could be too soft when it came to parenting Jay.

Jay was incredible at math, with a near-genius ability to work with numbers. His clear aptitude for it made it hard for Rhett to harp on him about the things he had more trouble with—like spelling. He wanted to praise and encourage his son, and he didn’t like to see Jay’s feelings hurt, even if he knew he needed to encourage him to work hard on other things too.

“You know, you can’t just go into people’s backyards,” Rhett said, changing the subject and nodding at the small pile of ‘artifacts.’ “That’s private property. You have to ask first.”

Jay’s mouth twisted. “That’s what Miss Caroline said,” he admitted. “I told her I was sorry.”

The mention of Caroline’s name brought her directly back into Rhett’s thoughts. He’d been trying to keep her out of his mind since she’d shown up at the firehouse with Jay, but it was difficult. He’d thought she was so beautiful on the other occasions he’d met her, and even slightly ticked off—he’d been able to tell Jay’s trespassing had annoyed her, even if she’d hid it well—she was still absolutely lovely to him. Maybe even a little more so, he thought wryly.

He would very , very much like to have an excuse to see her again.

“That’s good,” he said, wanting to encourage his son’s politeness. “And going and repairing your mistake will be good too. Actually…” He paused. “I think I’ll come with you, this weekend. Just to oversee things a little.”

Jay nodded. He looked glum, his excitement over his finds dissipated, and Rhett tried to think of a way that he might be able to cheer him up again.

“What do you think of a walk?” he suggested. “There’s more snow. We can go check it out while it’s still fresh.”

Jay brightened instantly, nodding eagerly and jumping off the bed. For the next several minutes, father and son went about the process of layering up for the cold—and a good thing too. The moment they stepped outside, Jay went tearing through the drifts, instantly covered in snow.

“We’ll get some outside time now,” Rhett told his son, just before he took off. “And then we’ll come back and I’ll help you with your homework, okay?”

Jay nodded eagerly, all thoughts of homework clearly vanished as he ran through the snow. Rhett took the path, watching as Jay carved tunnels through the drifts, making snowballs and throwing them, flopping down on one particularly hard-packed section to make a snow angel.

It lifted his spirits too, to see Jay having so much fun. He’d wondered how his son would feel about the colder winter and the snow, but it was clear that the novelty wouldn’t be wearing off anytime soon. There were challenges to this, as there always would be—settling Jay into his new school and encouraging him with his homework, getting accustomed to the new rhythm of life in a slower town, but Rhett felt overwhelmingly positive about all of it.

They walked all the way to the tree he’d found that first night, and Jay veered off to the right, shouting excitedly about deer prints. Rhett kept one eye on him as he glanced at the bench, remembering that he hadn’t seen his journal since that night.

He’d been so busy with work and getting settled in that he hadn’t thought to write in it again. But he realized it had been missing from the spot by his bed where he usually kept it, and he knelt down, looking to see if it had fallen.

It was under the bench, but it didn’t look as if it had fallen there. It was neatly tucked into a space between the bench and the tree, as if someone had put it there on purpose for safekeeping. Definitely not him—he’d left it behind in a hurry—which suggested someone had found it.

He was shocked to see that they hadn’t simply taken it—and even more shocked, when he opened it up, to see that there was new writing underneath the entry he’d written that night when he’d sat there and poured his heart out onto the pages.

The writing was sharp, angled, written hastily. He felt a little guilty at first, reading someone else’s private thoughts. But then again, they’d read his , in order to answer this in the first place. He sank down onto the bench as Jay ran in circles, looking for more signs of deer, and read the response again.

Something tugged at his chest, moved by how much this stranger seemed to understand what had been in his own heart that night, and how much their feelings seemed to reflect his.

It felt like a silly, fanciful thing, to write back to a stranger. But he didn’t let himself think too much about it.

Instead, he fished for a pen in the pocket of his coat, and started to write his own response, below that.

I know what you mean by thinking it might be too late. I have all these hopes and dreams that I feel like maybe I didn’t realize in time. I want to make the kind of family that I always imagined—have that sweet, happy home life that I think not everyone manages to get. I want my son to never feel as if he lacks for love in the slightest, as if he’s always supported in all his own dreams. And I want to have the kind of life that, when I look back at it, I don’t feel like I wasted any of the time that was given to me. Like I’ve enjoyed every second of it, even in the smallest things.

I feel like I pursued the wrong dreams for a long time. The wrong kind of love, the wrong kind of family, trying to balance someone else’s dreams with mine even though they were so impossibly different. Now that I’m older, I feel like I know more clearly what I want.

Like you, I hope it’s not too late to get it.

He felt a little foolish, as he closed the journal and tucked it back into the small crevice between the bench and the tree. Likely, the stranger was someone from out of town. They probably wouldn’t come back and read what he wrote—much less respond again.

But it felt good anyway. Like someone was listening.

He got up, dusted the snow off of his jeans, and called for Jay. The little boy reversed direction, speeding through the snow toward his father, and Rhett smiled.

Together, the two of them went back home, to dinner and homework.